Hostage
by Rougaroux
Summary: The Joker is bored and concocts a new game to play: hostage. But Harvey Dent's 'squeeze' may not be exactly what he bargained for, and this game might get a bit more serious than the Clown Prince of Crime ever imagined. Rated M for later chapters.


**Disclaimer: I do not own The Dark Knight, no matter how much I want to or how many pleading letters Christopher Nolan may or may not get in his mailbox every week.**

She ran a shaky hand through unkempt hair, then reached for a soggy cup of lukewarm coffee. It had been a hard week for Rachael Dawes; no, it had been a hard year. Ever since Bruce had come back from God-knows-where with his save-humanity agenda, her life had begun to split at the seams. It was like the city she'd grown up in was beginning to conspire against her. Crime was up again, her best friend was some sort of nocturnal super-man, and her land-lady seemed to be on a tenacious quest to blame everything from a down elevator to noise disturbances three floors above on Rachel and her cat, Sir.

She sighed, then shoved the stack of papers she'd been staring at back into their manila folder. She wasn't getting anywhere with these cases tonight, anyway, and re-reading the same complaints and defenses over and over wasn't going to help.

After straightening up her desk, no mean feat for a Gotham official of any standing, Rachel collected her purse and locked her office door. The rest of the building was dark, and the only sound was the soft clicking of Rachel's sensible heels as she hurried to the parking garage. Since the attempted murder/mugging months ago, Harvey had insisted she drive to work. Especially when she expected to be staying late.

Harvey. Kind, charming, levelheaded Harvey. Gotham's white knight. He would be glad when she came home. Knowing him, he'd probably waited up with a warm meal, and offers of a backrub. More, too, if she'd allow it, though recently Rachel had been less than enthusiastic. She blamed the stress at the office, though they both suspected something more.

Harvey was going to propose soon. Everyone knew it was an eventuality, it was just a question of when. Rachel wasn't quite sure what she was going to do when the question was popped. She loved Harvey, who wouldn't? He was safe and kind, and promised a comfortable life. The American dream. Still, Rachel had her doubts. Her life had always been safe and comfortable. Even in Gotham, she'd always lived in the best neighborhoods and attended the best schools. She felt sheltered, and Harvey was the guarantee that she'd never have to actually get her hands dirty. Sure she'd try cases and interrogate the dregs of Gotham society, but at the end of the day, she'd be able to go back to her home in the palisades, 2.5 children, family Golden Retriever, and a warm and loving husband.

Rachel blinked as she pulled into her parking space next to her nicer-than-average apartment building. She didn't even remember driving home. Heaving another sigh, she locked her doors and thanked Paul, the doorman as he held the heavy art-deco doors open for her. Crossing the marble tiled floors to the elevator, Rachel jumped when she all but collided into a petite form while attempting to dig her keys out of her purse.

Ms. Newman was usually a sight to behold in her gaudy old-lady splendor, and tonight was no exception. A metallic gold blouse was partially obscured by a tangle of aged pearls and an enormous mink shawl that smelled strongly of mothballs. Rachel's eye caught on blindingly white polyester pants and a precarious pair of silver and gold heels before darting up to the old woman's sagging face. Her bright red mouth was puckered with disdain and her faded blue eyes peered beadily out of heavily painted lids.

"You're late on your rent, Miss Dawes," she cawed, "and that _feline_ of yours has been up to no good again. People on 4th had no hot water this morning. I suspect it's been chewing at some wires, or…"

"It's the 25th today, Ms. Newman," Rachel said, exasperated. "Rent isn't due until the 31st, and I highly doubt…"

"Well, the paper I got this morning said it was the second, girlie. Don't you try and get one passed me! I may not be as young as you, but I can still…"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Newman, but today is the 25th. If you would like a check earlier, I can get one to you by Friday, but if you'll excuse me, it's been a really long day, and I really need to be going." Entering the elevator, Rachel quickly closed the door, leaving her landlady fuming in the lobby. "Hateful old shrew…" Rachel muttered.

"Hello?" Rachel called, opening her apartment door and finding it dark. Suddenly, she felt something brush up against her legs, and something sharp piercing the skin of her left calf. "Ow! Bastard!" she yelped, pulling away from her assailant. A plaintive yowl answered. Flipping on the kitchen light, Rachel saw Sir sitting expectantly by his food dish, glaring malevolently at her. She chuckled and scratched him behind the ears which elicited a grudging half-purr from the insulted feline. She knew Harvey would have fed him earlier, the cat was simply a glutton for the new brand of cat food she'd been getting.

Speaking of Harvey…

"Hello?" She called again, moving toward the bedroom. As she started down the hallway of their rather Spartan apartment, she began to hear faint voiced coming from around the slightly ajar door. Pushing it open, Rachel could now fully hear a female news anchor's voice coming from the small television that sat atop a high dresser. Harvey was sitting at the foot of the bed in a t-shirt and blue boxers. Even by the flashing light of the TV she could see that his face was drawn into a grimace, and dark circles were forming under his eyes. He motioned for her to sit beside him, then pointed at the screen.

"… the last in a string of bizarre video footage sent to us by the man calling himself the Joker. Viewers will remember the graphic scene aired last week when the madman murdered 22 year old Brian Johnson. While no one was harmed, that we know of, during this tape, the imagery is still very disturbing and viewer discretion is advised."

Rachel shot Harvey a concerned look. Everyone in the office had been talking about the Joker for weeks, though the man seemed a ghost. No DNA at crime scenes, no witnesses. The only proof that he actually existed was one garbled video, sent to news stations, and a handful of dingy 'joker' playing cards. With everything else going on in Gotham, the money laundering, the bank robberies, the murders, Rachel preferred to leave the painted up freakshow to Batman until they got any solid leads.

Suddenly, a dark, wild, eye appeared on the television, then a blur to the other eye. "Is this thing even on?" someone asked. "Ah! Here we… go!" And the Joker's face appeared in extreme close-up. Rachel froze. The man on screen backed up and sat down on a chair positioned in front of the camera. Leaning forward, he peered into the camera, then began in a singsong voice. "Good evening, ladies and gentle men. Have I got your attention? Your, ah, mob bosses and thugs aren't being very fun all locked up in jail right now, and I've got no one to play with! I think I have you to blame for that one, Mr. Dent. Harvey, Harvey dent!" He cackled, and the hairs on Rachel's neck stood up.

"Soooo," he continues, licking his lips and rolling his eyes before gazing back at the camera, "since you took away all my fun, Harveeeey, you're the one that gets to play. I'm taking a hostage, and it'll be one of three lucky contestants! First, of course, is you, Harvey. The second will be you're lovely lady-friend Miss Dawes. The third is Gotham's favorite golden boy, Bruce Wayne. Now," He paused, scooting closer, "normally, I'd let the citizens of Gotham take a little poll on the matter. That'd be fun, yeh? Buuut, I -ah- thought I'd let you decide this time, Harvey. It's allll up to you! What'll it be, huh? Gotham's hero DA, the love of your life, or the financial backbone of this fair city, hmm? You have twenty four hours." The Joker's face suddenly became serious. And if you don't send me your choice by then, I'll blow up a school. Until then!"

And the screen went black.

A/N:

OK, sooooo, first story, blah blah blah. I've been working on it in my head for awhile, but never actually typed it out. Reviews are extremely appreciated, especially constructive constructive criticism as it gets going. This will eventually be a Joker/Rachel fic, but not like you've seen before (I hope). I was getting sick of the lack of well-written believeable fics out there concerning those two! Rambling aside, I hope you enjoy it! I may not be the fastest at updating, but I will finish it, God Dammit!

-AG


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